


rapture

by pissedofsandwich



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Come Swallowing, D/s undertones, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Fucking, M/M, Oral Fixation, brazil pt 2 but not sad: the fic, kinky sex between ppl in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pissedofsandwich/pseuds/pissedofsandwich
Summary: It's the height of romance if you ask Atsumu: spread out on the bed like this, crying because it feels so good.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 13
Kudos: 225





	rapture

Shouyou starts with three of his fingers, because he's considerate and a tease like that.

The edge of the aisle is digging into his stomach, but Atsumu doesn't have it in him to complain. It's the element of surprise that makes his heart beat unbearably fast, being cornered in the kitchen like this after a whole afternoon of chaste touch. Which is _fine;_ he likes chaste, he likes romance and long walks by the beach and grilling ribs in Heitor and Nice's backyard while Shouyou entertained their two-year-old against the backdrop of a Rio sunset. But when he told Shouyou of his Brazilian holiday plans, he'd been under the impression that they'd spend the whole week in Shouyou's São Paolo's apartment, only getting out of bed to eat and shower—instead, Shouyou dragged him on a roadtrip to Rio, making a pilgrimage to the places he loved and discovered as a newcomer when he first came.

The last three days had been like a dream, despite his initial reservations as someone who dreaded travelling—he nearly cried trying to figure out the exit at the airport—he found that the trip had been like another window to Shouyou's soul. He knew Brazil was like a second home to Shouyou, but seeing how he lived and breathed in it, how he loved it firsthand, it was a revelation of the most beautiful kind.

But he'd also been promised mindblowing sex, so he's been waiting. And oh, does Shouyou _love_ to make him wait. When he picked Atsumu up at the airport — Atsumu near tears notwithstanding — he'd practically dipped him at the arrival gate, no care in the world to the catcalls of the people around them. Then he'd kissed him again once they were in the rental car, pushed him up against the door and kissed, _kissed_ him until he was breathless with it. He'd looked at Atsumu, at the hot mess he must've looked, at the way he _knew_ his longing must've shown in his eyes — god, 27 hours of _distance_ —and then he'd flicked him on the nose, pinched his cheeks, and taken him to lunch. 

He hadn't given Atsumu anything but small pecks since then.

So his fingers in Atsumu's mouth—it's stepping on the gas on the highway. It's NOS in Need for Speed, propelling him faster and faster. It's lust, spreading like wildfire through his bones. It's him nearly dropping the dish he was washing, the pregnant silence of the AirBnB they've claimed for themselves while in Rio, a beachfronted beauty of Atsumu's wildest Brazilian marathon sex dreams, and it's Shouyou, pushing him further to the edge. 

He doesn't have the decency to be ashamed of the soft whimper that escapes his mouth. Shouyou hasn't moved his fingers, seemingly satisfied with keeping them heavy and resting against his tongue, fingertips hovering just at the opening of his throat, testing the waters. His mouth waters with his effort to accommodate Shouyou's fingers, hands gripping the sink to steady himself, to not choke even as his head begins to feel floaty. 

"Atsumu-san," Shouyou says, something like awe dripping from every syllable. With the heel of his hand, he forces Atsumu's head back, pushing his fingers deeper into his throat. His mouth now on the same level as Atsumu's mouth, he says, "I knew you'd be so obedient. Have you been waiting for me?"

It's hard to nod with Shouyou baring his throat like this, but he tries anyway. He thinks there's tears at the edge of his eyes. Shouyou lays his palm flat against the column of his throat, protective.

"Tsumu," he whispers, "do you still remember what we talked about? The night before your flight?"

The more apt question was: how could Atsumu forget? Shouyou spent the whole night detailing every single thing that he was going to do to him—particularly his mouth. His oral fixation was no secret to either of them, being one of the most obvious things about Atsumu—see: ninety percent of his selfies—and it was a major topic in their phone sex. Atsumu came the fastest when Shouyou talked about fucking his mouth. For all that Shouyou teased him about it, though, they hadn't actually gotten the chance to try it out, with the distance between them. Shouyou had been coaching him with dildos, as a compromise, teaching him the correct method of deepthroating, but it wasn't Shouyou, therefore it wasn't enough. Shouyou's promise to use his mouth was something that he'd been dreaming about, and to think that he might actually have him in his mouth, real and not imagined…

Atsumu's moan gets caught somewhere in the push of Shouyou's fingers. Ever the understanding, Shouyou pulls out his fingers just a little, just enough to let Atsumu rasp out a, "yes," so desperate, he's almost ashamed of it. The fact that he can feel Shouyou pressed against his ass—as hard as he is—reassures him a little, at least, that he's not the only one affected by this. That Shouyou wants it, too. His fingers are shoved in once again, his Adam's apple working against the weight on his tongue, fighting against the urge to choke as slowly, deliciously, Shouyou applies soft pressure to the ends of his fingertips, the parts nearest to his tonsils.

"Can you show me how you'd give your okay?" Shouyou asks. Atsumu grabs Shouyou's hips, giving him one single tap. "Good. If you need to pause?" Atsumu taps him twice. "And the hard stop?" Three taps, short. He feels Shouyou nod behind him, satisfied, and already the rush of being able to answer him correctly—to give him what he asks for, what he wants—floods him, making him feel warm all over. He's going to have his mouth thoroughly wrecked, and he can't be more ecstatic about it. 

"One tap, go. Two taps, pause. Three," his hips roll against Atsumu, "is for stop." Atsumu nods frantically. He won't want to stop, he knows, he's been waiting too fucking long to have Shouyou by his side, touching him like this, taking care of him like this. "Okay," Shouyou says, then in a flash, his fingers are out of his mouth. Atsumu reels at the emptiness, at the way he feels so devastatingly _bereft,_ and he whirls his body around, a whine high in his throat, but Shouyou catches his wrists and sets them on his sides. "Hey, hey," he shushes, "it's okay, we don't have to rush. We have the whole night, the whole week—”

"Want it now," Atsumu says, impatient, nosing along Shouyou's neck. He knows Shouyou can feel how hard he is, how much _this_ alone makes him so hot. "Please, fuck my mouth, make me take it, fuck me—"

Shouyou's hands come up to his cheeks, steadying him. "I will," he says, "I will, Tsumu, I want this too—but not here, alright? Let's go to the bedroom." Atsumu groans, pushing his hips forward, so Shouyou _knows_ , but his boyfriend—stupidly earnest, the fucking unbelievable human that he is—shakes his head, links their fingers together as he leads him to their bedroom. It opens straight to the patio, where Shouyou likes to practice his morning meditation, annoyingly sticking to his schedule even on vacation, but Atsumu won't complain—not when it means he gets to wake up to the sight of Shouyou's back, poised and perfect. 

The bed, a king size with an ornate headboard and four-poster, sits atop a soft, lush rug, and that's where Shouyou deposits Atsumu. On his knees, looking up at Shouyou as he sits on the edge of the bed, expectant. 

"God, you…" Shouyou seems at a loss for words. He reaches down, stroking the cropped hair at the back of Atsumu's neck. "You're so stunning." 

He's wearing a threadbare t-shirt and shorts. This morning, he realized his hair was thinner than it used to be just a month ago and proceeded to sulk until Shouyou kissed the top of his head and distracted him with a trip to the beachside Brazilian sushi stall, where they took turns feeding each other each roll. It makes his cheeks warm that Shouyou thinks _this_ is stunning. Shouyou's hands are on his cheeks again — stupid soft, Shouyou had described them, which Atsumu doesn't agree with because he works hard for these cheekbones and chiseled jaw, his cheeks are _not_ soft—squishing them almost, and he says once again, "you're so stunning," in a tone that's more fond than anything else. 

Then, he guides his head straight to his cock.

Shouyou's wearing shorts too, and the tenting on his crotch would probably look funny if Atsumu isn't so wanting right now. He places his hands on the waistband of his shorts, and after a quick glance at Shouyou—he nods, a silent permission—he pushes them down, along with his underwear until his cock springs free, fully erect. His mouth waters at the sight. It twitches when he touches it with one hand, and Shouyou lets out a soft hiss, his hand heavy at the back of Atsumu's head. "You ready?" he grins down at him, and Atsumu, never one to miss a chance to one-up him, takes him down in one go. 

He has all the dildos Shouyou bought for him to thank for the way he doesn't choke at the sudden fullness. Still, the sensation of a warm length inside of his mouth is not in any way comparable; it's so much better, as he knew it would be, and the way Shouyou reacts to it makes it all the more intoxicating. He hasn't hit the back of his throat yet—he knows to pace himself now, slow but sure—so what little he can't cover, he wraps around with one hand. He wants to get it wet first, make it slick with his spit until Shouyou is all he can taste inside his mouth, and he bobs his head up and with the intention to do so. Never once letting Shouyou out of his mouth, sucking in his cheeks as he drags his lips to the head of Shouyou's cock, only to come back down again at that same leisurely pace. "Shit," Shouyou curses, "fuck, Tsumu, you're learning, aren't you?" He tightens his grip in Atsumu's hair. "You're already so much better than I imagined."

Atsumu can't help it; he moans. The fact that Shouyou has imagined him like this, on his knees, mouth on his dick—it makes him shiver, and only serves to make him greedier. He knows Shouyou won't fuck him until he gets used to having his mouth full, knows that Shouyou is the type to take his time because he doesn't want to push Atsumu beyond his limits, but Atsumu wants what Shouyou promised now. Remembering to breathe through his nose, he drags his mouth down the length of Shouyou's cock, and slowly, slowly, past where he'd usually stop, until he can feel Shouyou hit the back of his throat. Shouyou's answering groan is low, deep like it's pulled out of his chest. His grip is bordering on painful now, forceful enough to keep Atsumu still, stuffed full of his cock, and Atsumu juggles between sensations, struggling between pain and pleasure and pain and _fuck, breathe, breathe through your nose._

And then, Shouyou is pulling his head back. Not too far back, half of his cock is still inside Atsumu's mouth when he slams his head back down, so sudden that Atsumu has to brace himself on Shouyou's thighs. His nose buried in the soft hairs under Shouyou's navel, Shouyou does it again, fucking his mouth on his dick, shallow and patient at first, until he picks up speed and he's struggling just to breathe. The wet squelching sound it produces as Shouyou hits the back of his throat again and again is the only sound other than their combined laboured breathing. 

_Yes. Yes, this is what he wants._

This is what those long nights over Skype are meant for; Friday night in Japan, early Saturday morning in Brazil, just keeping his dildo inside his mouth for as long as he can, fucking his throat to Shouyou's instructions as closely as possible. He used to be so done with all the "training", embarrassed at the thought of being taught tricks like some kind of pet, even more embarrassed at the fact that he didn't _completely_ hate it, but now he sees how well it prepares him to take the full onslaught of Shouyou's dick, sliding in and out of his throat so easily. 

"Fuck, fuck, okay," Shouyou pulls him off—there's an obscene popping sound that nearly makes Atsumu laugh, but he's more pissed than anything at not having Shouyou's cock in his mouth. He chases after it, hungry, only to be lifted up to his feet by the armpits, and dropped unceremoniously onto the bed.

Now horizontal, Shouyou straddles his hips, taking his face in his hands and kissing him with everything he has. He loses himself in the kiss, lets Shouyou lick into his mouth and consumes him whole, surrendering to him fully. He forgets momentarily he's been denied one of the wonders of the world—Shouyou's cock—until his boyfriend, his lips red and shiny, pulls away to say, "I want to try something." He's biting his lip, which means he's unsure about something—which means it'll probably unlock some parts in Atsumu that he doesn't know exists, which means Atsumu will be obsessed with it, like the first time Shouyou spanked him as a joke and it became a thing they couldn't get enough of now. 

"Anything," he tells Shouyou, resolute. Something profound passes across Shouyou's eyes as Atsumu says it—he always looks like he's meeting Atsumu for the first time whenever he confirms his willingness to do just about _anything_ in the realm of sex, provided that he is with Shouyou on every step of the way.

"Remember your taps," Shouyou reminds him as he arranges the pillows underneath Atsumu's head, ensuring he's as comfortable as he can be. Atsumu's still in the dark—the vast difference in their sex history is something that he's stopped being insecure about, seeing it now as an opportunity to try and explore things he was curious but too scared about with someone who has his love and trust—as to what Shouyou wants to try; if he were to suck Shouyou off, he probably shouldn't be lying down. He meets Shouyou's eyes in question, but he gives him no clues, only shuffling upwards so his heavy cock is positioned right in front of his mouth.

His brain makes the connection in an instant. 

His hands fly to Shouyou's hips as he moves forward, mouth opening eagerly to allow Shouyou inside. He hears Shouyou curse above him—something like, "fuck, you want this, you really want this, you want _me_ "—but sounds become muffled as two strong thighs bracket the sides of his head, Shouyou's cock sliding along his tongue in a way that makes him close his eyes shut. The different angle pushes him deeper than he's used to, and in his frenzy to breathe through the sheer size of Shouyou, he doesn't realize Shouyou has taken his hands off his hips to entangle them with his own, pressed on the bed. It's endearing but also hot—he can't really budge, even if he wants to, so all he's able to do is keep his mouth open and let Shouyou fuck it with abandon. 

God, he's so fucking hard, and the fact that he hasn't been touched doesn't even come on the top of the list of things he wants Shouyou to do to him now. 

Shouyou releases one of his hands for a moment—Atsumu almost cries, he doesn't want to wait, no—to place on his thigh again. "Okay?" he murmurs. It feels like a consolation that he sounds rough himself, like he's holding himself off from the taking. Atsumu taps him once. He knows consent should always be explicit, and he loves that sometimes Shouyou likes to make him spell out what exactly he wants, but if Shouyou can't tell how badly he wants this from the way his tongue won't stop lapping at him, well. He swirls it around as much as Shouyou's thighs allow, moans loud so Shouyou can _feel_ the vibration, how ready Atsumu is to be taken apart under Shouyou's cock. 

His boyfriend swears. "Remember you can always stop," he reminds him, and Atsumu wants to snap, wants to tell him _god shut the fuck up get on with it already,_ but all higher thoughts leave him as Shouyou pulls back and thrusts back in. That wet squelching sound is even louder now, straight to the back of his throat. He already knows he's going to sound different tomorrow, and he _loves_ it. As with every new thing that they try, Shouyou is slow and attentive at first, but once he deems Atsumu ready, he goes faster, deeper. His own moans are louder than usual, and Atsumu wishes he could see the way that Shouyou looks, how his eyes must be rolling back, blissed-out. How good Atsumu makes him feel with his mouth. 

He starts to struggle when Shouyou goes just a little too fast, the urge to gag almost overpowering him, and he taps Shouyou twice urgently. Shouyou immediately pauses, rubs his temples gently with his dick half-in, giving just enough time for Atsumu to re-adjust, get his airflow back. His chest is heaving, stomach rippling, too. There's that line in the back of his head, the point that the sex crosses over to something he loses his mind over, foggy and slow and nothing but sensations, and he's afraid to go over it. Doesn't know what to do if he gives into it and forgets to be responsible, to know where his limits are. This is not like getting fucked, where Shouyou can more or less tell when he can go on with being rough, but the desire to fulfill what Shouyou needs—because it's what he needs, too—is stronger. 

"Take your time," Shouyou says, kind. He doesn't say, _you can stop now if it's too much._ He says, _take your time._ He means, _I know you can do it._ It's not just Shouyou being nice, it's him encouraging Atsumu, trusting that he can make it all the way through—it fills him with so much pride for himself, knowing Shouyou believes in him like this. Like pushing him to make the quick even faster when others told them it was practically impossible, because he knew Atsumu had what it took. To give his best and be reciprocated with the same effort. 

Fuck, he needs _not_ to worry about anything. Shouyou knows. He will know.

He taps him once on the thigh. 

"Good," Shouyou praises him, and he restarts with a deep thrust— _inhale as he does, Atsumu, inhale_ —and then he stops. Short of shoving his balls inside his mouth, he just keeps his cock there, still as the waters during the day, calm like he could stay like this all night. Atsumu's jaw is starting to feel it, but he keeps on, knowing Shouyou must have plans, he always does.

A hand gently caresses the tender skin below his chin, then down to the bulge forming above his Adam's apple—and Atsumu nearly sobs once he realizes what Shouyou is doing. He's feeling for his own cock, buried deep inside his mouth, protruding from his throat. 

Atsumu can't survive this. It's almost too much, but it's so good, when Shouyou starts moving once again, fucking his mouth like it's his ass, like he's searching for something that'll make him see stars and not just hitting the back of his throat every time. But it's so good, it's so _good_ —Shouyou asked him once why he loved sucking dick so much, "because it's not like you really get something out of it." 

But this is what Atsumu gets out of it: Shouyou blabbering him praises, losing his mind on top of him, using Atsumu in the best way. Yielding to Shouyou, it's like ecstasy, the perfect give and receive that he's been wanting all along. Where he gives what he's able to, and Shouyou meets him where he is. It's the fucking height of romance if you ask Atsumu: spread out on the bed like this, crying because it feels so good.

" _Atsumu, Atsumu_ — " and it's the precious moments like this, when Shouyou forgets politeness and decency and drops the _-san_ , calls him by his name — _Atsumu,_ not _Tsumu_ — like he doesn't know any other name, not even his own — only Atsumu gets this, and no one else. He wants to imprint it on Shouyou if he could — _you're not gonna find anyone else who fucks like me._ Who lets Shouyou fuck away even as his throat hurts and saliva drips down to his chin, when he's close to thinking _no more, no more, enough_ ; who, when Shouyou asks him, "Please, can I come in your mouth, can I," gives one tap on his thigh—a resounding yes—and lets Shouyou spray down the length of his throat. 

He has to remind himself not to clench his mouth, to swallow because that's the only thing that'll stop him from gagging. He's so uncomfortable, fuck, his whole face aches—despite this, there's a surge of pleasure that cuts to him like lightning, and in the haze, he doesn't register it as what it is: he's come untouched.

"I'm sorry, shit, that was a lot—" Atsumu wants to quip that Shouyou always comes the most when it's the first sex they've had in the day, but he's busy gulping air once his mouth is free. He opens his eyes to Shouyou gaping at him—flabbergasted doesn't even feel like an exaggeration, with how wide his eyes are. Atsumu musters up the last of his strength to smile slyly at him, then shows him his tongue. Clean. Shouyou makes a noise like he's been punched. "Did—did you swallow?"

Atsumu is so pleased he wants to _giggle._ His throat is screaming at him, though, so he settles for a nod. Shouyou makes that noise again--often heard when he's in disbelief of Atsumu--and attacks him with a kiss, smushing his cheeks with both hands. "I cannot fucking _believe,_ " Shouyou says. "Atsumu, you're not real."

"What's real is how sore my throat is," Atsumu says, and immediately Shouyou's face falls. "No, _no,_ you didn't go too far, it's just different than dildos."

Shouyou stares at him. "Good different?"

Atsumu gestures below his waist, shameless. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

It's priceless, the way Shouyou looks back at the mess on his thighs and stomach and does a double take. Atsumu loves how giddy sex with Shouyou makes him feel; they could be doing one of the kinkiest things on their list, Shouyou could be calling him a slut—he didn't this time, there are moments where Atsumu would love to, but it doesn’t fit today—they'd finish with the biggest smiles on their faces. Sex between people in love is amazing, and he's so fucking in love with Shouyou, especially when the first thing Shouyou decides to do once he realizes fucking Atsumu in the mouth makes him come untouched is to clean the mess with his tongue.

He's not nearly as sensitive as he usually is, his orgasm not as intense as usual, but it still tickles when Shouyou licks around his cock, spent but half-hard already. Shouyou laps it up, making a show out of putting Atsumu's legs over his shoulders and passing his tongue over the stripes and drops of come on the tender skin of his thighs. He sinks his teeth into the meat—oh, how he knows Shouyou loves his thighs—and leaves his marks red and stinging. He soothes the pain away with little absentminded kisses like he's doing just because. Atsumu watches Shouyou run his fingers down his femur, like he's assessing something dear and precious to him. 

Their eyes meet, and Shouyou gives him the softest of smiles before he kisses the inside of his right thigh. Shoyou's wrong, he thinks. Shouyou is the stunning one.

"I love you," Shouyou whispers. 

Atsumu melts. Yeah, the entirety of his body is goo. He sits up to kiss Shouyou, and it seems Shouyou has the right idea because they collide halfway, their lips crashing like waves. "I love you too," Atsumu whispers back, so happy that his chest is bursting with it.

"My _baby_ ," Shouyou coos, squishing his cheeks and kneading them around, because he has no respect for the elders. "You did so well. My best, _bestest_ — _"_ he punctuates this with another squish, making what he calls a fish-pout out of Atsumu's poor, poor face, then topping it off with a kiss on his nose, " _baby_."

Atsumu's cheeks burn. "Oh my god, stop that, I'm literally ten centimeters taller than you," is what he means to say, but because Shouyou hasn't relinquished his hold on his cheeks, it comes out approximately like baby gibberish, which only delights Shouyou. Atsumu attempts to pry Shouyou's hands off his cheeks, and when Shouyou won't budge, he goes for his armpits instead, tickling him where he knows Shouyou is weakest. 

"That's cheating!" Shouyou wails, wrestling Atsumu in a fit of laughter. They end up with their positions switched: Shouyou underneath him, Atsumu between his legs, leaning over him. Their laughter dies down when their eyes lock, a contemplative, pensive silence falling over them in a hush. Atsumu's heart begins to beat rapidly again.

"God, Atsumu," Shouyou murmurs, reaching up to touch his face. "I'm so happy that you're here."

Name him a better bargain; it doesn't exist. He's in one of the most beautiful cities in the world, on top of the world's most beautiful man, and he's telling him that he's so happy to have Atsumu here. He who never stays, whose fate is to fly higher and away—he is happy to have Atsumu right beside him. It makes Atsumu, who always stays, want to revisit a conversation that they dropped months ago because it led to the biggest fight they've had. A plan that involves trying out for a local Brazilian team, settling in the same country as Shouyou, closing the distance. It had been too daunting for him when Shouyou brought it up the first time, never having moved past Osaka—still right by the town he grew up in, while his twin is away somewhere in Boston, fucking up his English to get another degree—but now that he sees what it could be like, if he moved here… well, his heart isn't immovable.

But that's for later. For now, he kisses Shouyou again, the love of his life, and basks in the rapture of the afterglow.

**Author's Note:**

> atsumu [won](https://twitter.com/mortalatte/status/1335904050823487491) the soft cheeks poll, so as promised here i am, delivering. i hope i lived up to your expectations. big thanks to [K](https://twitter.com/9talesnine) for ensuring me this is acceptable. thank you for reading!
> 
> i did minimal research for this fic, but here's how i imagine their [beach airbnb](https://www.airbnb.com/rooms/39178981/photos?check_in=2021-01-01&check_out=2021-01-02&source_impression_id=p3_1607503438_BZGcwEwjsO%2BZYded&guests=1&adults=1) would look like. it's by copacabana beach, where the biggest pride parade was held in brazil. i wanted to add something about being able to be out in brazil, but i figured since i'm already tackling that stuff in my (upcoming) bokuaka fic, they get to be happy in this one. i'm sorry if you came for the characterization. i can only give you horny, these days.


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